


Manny in Love

by Vibrant_D



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Eventual Romance, F/M, M/M, Post-Divorce, RPF, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-07-01 03:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15765573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vibrant_D/pseuds/Vibrant_D
Summary: Timothée Chalamet, a down on his luck, nearly college grad, has a major change in life after being kicked out of his university and dorm.  He decides to take a job as an in home nanny for newly divorced Armie Hammer's two young children.  Timothée's life takes a rather unexpected path after settling into his new home and job.





	1. Falling Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shellgoes211again](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shellgoes211again/gifts).



Sitting on the bench outside my former university with snow falling on me, I shiver, wracking my brain about what comes next. I’m still in shock over the events of the last two weeks. Midway into my final semester of business school my life has turned upside down. I’m so ashamed of myself and so, so angry at the university politics that have led to me losing my scholarship. 

I worked my whole adolescence to get to this place and everything is ripped away from me with one fell swoop. Sacrificing social time, relationships and sometimes my sanity, I put my whole heart and mind into being the best student possible. Growing up, my parents always told me I had to afford college on my own. They are both self-made, successful adults with rewarding careers, but they didn't want me to think I don't have to work for my success, so I always knew paying for college was up to me. I worked my ass off, getting into the advanced placement classes and applying for every scholarship imaginable. My hard work and determination paid off when I was granted a full ride to the university of my dreams. The payoff was so sweet and I relished in the pride of my accomplishment for the whole summer leading up to my first semester. At NYU, I excelled. My professors always noticed my commitment to really grasping the information and applying it to problem-solving. I was never a kiss ass, but I enjoyed the praise I received and chatting with my professors about my future during office hours. Things were bright and just weeks ago I was accepted to my top choice MBA program. My heart was soaring with the possibilities and adventures that awaited me in grad school, but now my hopes are dashed and I have never felt so lost. 

School was overwhelming at times and a little habit I picked up to occasionally unwind, was my down fall. In high school I began smoking a little weed every now and then, especially when I needed some help slowing down my mind and going to sleep. I found it to be harmless and even helpful at times. Rarely would I smoke with others, because this was not the image I wanted to project, even to my closest friends. Part of my scholarship included free room and board at the dormitory and their rules about what you can keep in your room on campus was standard. No alcohol, drugs, weapons. I should have adhered to the rules, but after three and a half years living on campus and seeing how everything worked, I did not expect a random search of my room. One joint. That’s all I had in my dorm room. Apparently the RA thought there was some contraband in the dorm after smelling some weed in the hallway on a Saturday night. He ordered a spot search of the rooms on my floor and they turned my room upside down. I’ve never felt so sick, seeing the security guard dig the joint out of my desk cabinet. Instantly, I knew my time here was over. 

I didn’t think I could feel more sick, until I had to call my parents and tell them I had to evacuate my room in 3 days and I needed a place to stay. They were scandalized. Never could they imagine their son smoking weed, let alone that he would be stupid enough to be caught with it. My parents were deeply ashamed and had little tolerance for my plight. They told me I had a month to find a job and somewhere else to live. Stating that they’d done enough already to support me, I had to get out as soon as possible. 

The pressure was on. I spent hours and hours on end searching craigslist and job boards, looking for an opportunity that could help me secure an apartment and full-time job. My stomach constantly in knots, I was barely sleeping or eating, chewing my fingers till they bled. Was I going to be homeless? Would I have to beg a friend or distant family member for a place to stay? 

I knew that my three and a half years of business school should count for something, but without the actual degree and having no easy way to explain why I hadn’t finished, I decided to look for jobs outside of my knowledge and expertise. This would have never occurred to me, but I realized that being a nanny was a possibility. A live in nanny would solve two problems with one job. I came across a posting for a “busy professional single father” who needed a nanny for his two small children. This job seemed too good to be true, because the kids went with their mother on the weekends and I was free to do whatever I pleased. The pay was negotiable, but honestly I didn’t care, I just wanted to give this a shot. Replying to the posting with extra care, I sent off the application and felt a little flutter of hope. The invitation for an interview came and I set it up for the following day. My stomach did a little flip thinking of the possibilities. 

Prepping for the interview, I wanted to look my best. Studying my face in the mirror I realized I looked a bit scraggly and gaunt, so I shaved and promised I would eat a good breakfast and drink plenty of water. My chestnut brown hair still floppy and curly at a medium length, I think added to my appeal. I looked rather French and bohemian, which seemed to be the right vibe for a manny. Looking like a bit of a hippy seemed to be the right trope for the job. 

The next morning I picked out an outfit that was nice, but not too nice. I wanted to look like I have some fashion sense, but not too stuffy. The attire required for a business job interview would look out of place for this occasion. I gave myself a once over and headed out the door trying to quell my anxiety. This might be the best thing that could happen to me after the whole mess began and I’m thankful for the interview. The dad wanted me to meet him at his office. I wouldn’t be meeting the kids that day, as he was protective about who he introduced them to. Riding the subway to his office in the Financial District was enough time to clear my mind and steady myself while listening to some of my favorite music on my bulky headphones. 

Getting off my stop, I made my way up the stairs and was hit with a wave of sadness. This is where I pictured myself in a few months, but now I’m not sure it will ever happen. Wiping the sad look off my face, I approached the shiny sky scraper and took the elevator all the way to the top. The office was chic and the receptionist could probably be a model. I sat down in the beautifully decorated waiting room and imagined myself getting the job. The receptionist motioned for me to follow her and I walked down a long hallway lined with glass doors where I could see busy people in suits, typing away furiously on computers and yelling into their phones. We finally reached his office door and she opened it for me. 

I stepped in and caught my first sight of him. I lost my breath. This man was impeccable. He was so very tall, blonde with blue eyes. A slight stubble on his cheeks and neck with tan skin. His physique was superb. He obviously took very good care of himself, but was not one of those crazy body builders you find at every gym. And the suit. My god, the suit. Perfectly tailored with accents to bring out the blue in his eyes. There was not one flaw I could see on him and it inspired admiration and jealousy in the same moment. Here’s a man standing before me who is exactly who I want to be and more handsome than I could ever dream of being. But he looked tired and maybe a little sad. I’m sure eventually I would find out what was behind that. He extended a firm handshake, which I reciprocated to the best of my ability in this stunned state. And did I notice a tiny widening of his eyes when he looked into my face? I wasn’t sure, but he was immediately cool and welcomed me to sit while passing me a glass of water. He sat on his desk with one leg hiked up while taking me in again. Mr. Hammer folded his arms, in a protective way, and dug in with questions. 

“So Timothée, why are you interested in caring for children?” His voice thrilled me. So deep and simultaneously expressive. I’ve never heard a voice like his before. I collected myself quickly. 

“Well, it wasn’t necessarily something I considered doing at this point in my life, but I always enjoyed caring for my younger siblings and other kids in the building when I was in high school. Getting to teach children about life and helping them kick back and have fun was always rewarding for me. I think I could really enjoy doing that kind of work again.”

Mr. Hammer looked curious. “Why wasn’t this something you considered for this time in your life?”

“I don’t want to keep anything from you, so I’ll be honest. I lost my scholarship to NYU Stern School of Business and I need to figure out my next steps. In the meantime, I’d like to work in a completely different area than I was planning on, as a way to help me sort out what I want for my future.” 

“I see,” he said tensing his jaw. “What happened to your scholarship?”

Blushing, I looked down at my hands in my lap. I didn’t want to do this, but what do I have to lose at this point? “I, I….. I violated the rules at the dormitory by having a joint in my room.” I peered up to gauge his reaction. 

Mr. Hammer nodded and I could see that he was thinking, but I couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Well, that was a careless mistake, but not something you should lose your scholarship over. Do you have a history of making careless mistakes?”

“No sir, really I don’t. I’ve always cared deeply about my studies and this has come as a huge shock to me, considering I was 12 credits away from graduating. And if you’re wondering, I’m not some kind of drug addict. You can check my background and references to be sure. I certainly won’t be using marijuana in the future.” I said all of this earnestly and I think it had a positive effect on him. 

His look softened, finally. Maybe he has some pity on me. “This sounds like a stressful situation and I’m sure you’re greatly disappointed. Hopefully there can be some resolution in the future. Considering that you may still have ambitions to complete school, do you think you can at least commit to one year working for me?”

“Yes, absolutely. That would be a wonderful opportunity for me.” 

“Okay then. I’m not offering you the job quite yet. I’ll be checking your references and have you meet the kids. Come to my brownstone on Thursday at 6pm and you’ll meet Harper and Ford. We’ll see how you all get along, then we can talk contracts and such if it seems to be a good fit.” 

“Thank you Mr. Hammer. I look forward to meeting them.”

“Very well, get the details from my receptionist on the way out for Thursday. And you can call me Armie.”

“Yes, sir... I mean, Armie. Thank you. Looking forward to seeing you again.” I grin and shake his hand again. His palm feels a little damp, which surprises me. Did I make him anxious somehow? I doubt that. Some scrawny kid from Hell's Kitchen without a degree probably could never intimidate a man like this. I push the thought out of my mind. 

As I walk back to the subway with the chill of a unusually cold and snowy March on my back, I feel warm and hopeful, yet consternation. I have a feeling this man will mean something for my future that I can’t quite know, but he will be very important to me. It almost feels the way you might when you meet someone you know you’ll be quickly infatuated with. I let that sink in while I walk an extra few blocks in the cold, trying to expel this strange energy. 

Two days until I meet the kids. I smile at the thought of seeing his face once again.


	2. Demise

Growing up I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do in my adulthood, other than get away from my family. Day dreaming about the future didn’t happen, because all I could think of were the things right in front of me. I’m somewhat of a black sheep and never felt like I fully belonged because I didn’t swallow the dogma of my parents and teachers. No one kept close tabs on me, so I always got to explore and make friends without my parents knowing. I exposed myself to many different people and came to appreciate open minded folks and different view points. Between Dallas, the Cayman Islands and LA, I met every kind of person imaginable to a kid. Barreling through my school years, I kept reminding myself that there was an end and it would be here sooner than I expected, even if I could not yet imagine it. I relished the time I stole away and got to hear stories recounted by old men as they brought in their catch of the day. They were kind to entertain the lost boy. When I was a little older I distracted myself with girls, becoming entwined in overly dramatic relationships, just to beat the boredom. They served as a good distraction and I learned a lot about myself and how to respect women over time. Something I didn’t get at home, because dating was against the rules. Thank goodness for the connections I made with mentors in my life, formal and informal. I used them to learn the ins and outs of the female experience and developed empathy. Eventually, my girlfriends were impressed with my insight and attention to detail. 

When the day finally came and I left my parents’ house for college I felt such relief, but also really alone for the first time. I ended my most recent relationship, as we were going to colleges far apart and long-distance seemed unrealistic. This was the first time without an overbearing parent breathing down my neck and my life was truly up to me. After settling into college life, I made friends but I still felt like I was without a family. Then I met Elizabeth. Immediately I knew she was my family. She was the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on and also the smartest. Her mind was keen and she was a master when it came to business. She never ceased to impress me. Quickly, we became infatuated and started spending every free moment together. I genuinely enjoyed her company and our bodies fit together so perfectly. Our love turned into something strong and beautiful within a matter of months. And her family loved me. They accepted me as is and I learned how to be myself around a family. Being enveloped in Liz’s family felt like the best gift I could be given in this life. I knew I finally had people to count on, to support me, to tell me when I was wrong. It was exactly the kind of guidance I’d always craved. And Liz was always there. She prioritized me in a way I could never imagine, because the models I had for relationships growing up had no idea how to treat each other with respect. 

We both agreed to wait till we graduated to get married and then we did. To this day, it was the best party I’ve ever thrown. She was stunning and charming and I was totally smitten. We danced the night away as we enjoyed the company of our closest friends and family. I loved this day so much, because we both decided to invite only the people who supported us and our relationship. We didn’t worry about snubbing anyone by not offering an invite. That day included all of my chosen family and she was the tie that bound us all. She was the center of my world and the place from which I drew my strength and determination. 

Being in her arms and receiving her encouragement is what I needed to come into my own. The man she built me to be, is someone I really enjoy being. I scaled the ranks at my investment firm and without much effort, I rose to a senior position after five years time. She was so proud of me and never took credit for my accomplishments, even though we both knew she was the secret ingredient. Liz was my cheerleader, even when the hours grew long and my stress levels rose. She helped me keep my feet on the ground and eventually I felt confident and settled in my new role. 

We decided to start our own family and I was so excited for the chance to do things right; to learn from my parents’ mistakes. And we made these two beautiful children. Harper and Ford. I love them equally, but Harper changed me instantly. Her presence forced me to prioritize my family over work. I was going to be there for all the important things and luckily my firm understood that. They were flexible with me, as long as my work didn’t suffer. I made every minute count there, so I could have more with her. Liz, Harper and I were so content it felt like a dream. Liz and I sat up nights talking about how we could insure that Harper felt loved and accepted. My greatest fear is that she would think she couldn’t come to me with a problem and I started preparing for those interactions, even though she’s far off from needing that kind of help. I let Harper throw me tea parties and put princess crowns on my head. Encouraging Liz to be a little more open minded, I also let Harper pick toys from the “boys section.” We have cars to race and action figures that we pretend are astronauts. I want to give her the world and she fills my heart with love. I make up my mind to never let her think she has to be a certain way to earn my love. The only thing I need is her happiness. Next came Ford, and I didn’t think my heart could expand to find more love, but it did and I felt so, so full of love. My happy little family was here, but then I felt a shift in energy. Looking back, maybe it was postpartum depression, but something I couldn’t put my finger on at the time. A slight chill would creep up on me from time to time. I wasn’t sure Liz was handling being a mother of two well, especially since she was finally making it on her own in the business world. She was tired and short with me. Really, I think she was pulling away an inch at a time.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Looking down at my left hand now, it seems like a stranger’s. There’s a thin band of white with an indention on either edge, where my ring used to be and the tattoo that will never be complete. Eight years of marriage and 10 years being together flew by so fast, I hardly have had time to adjust to this new normal. I hope it feels normal at some point, but there are moments I doubt it will. My whole adult life I thought I knew the shape of my life would take. The routines I would enact, the love I would share. But Liz and I grew apart slowly and then everything was different. We didn’t whisper to each other in bed anymore after we put the kids down. We didn’t even look in each other in the eyes, most of the time. Ask me now what changed and I will have a hard time telling you exactly what happened. Mostly I think that I let my priorities change and we became different people. The woman I married wasn’t there anymore. She was still ambitious, motivated, fiery and inspired awe in me, but there was also the greed and self-importance that was new and changed her priorities. Liz was always destined for greatness, but she let her need for achievement take over and I struggled to feel warm toward her. 

How did I change? I really don’t know. Sometimes I think I must be blind or diluted, to not understand what I did to contribute to the demise of our relationship. This could be my fault, for all I know; I’m still so very confused. Maybe I made her this way. Maybe I gave her no choice but to put herself so far ahead of me. That twists my stomach with shame each time I think about it. I always believed we could get back to the people we were eight years ago, or better yet surpass where we were then, but she didn’t want to try. The only thing I could do for her was let her go and turn her life into something that was satisfying and beautiful again. I still wake up in the same bed, but alone. I still go to the same office, but without joy. My responsibilities have not changed, but I know that the one thing I can do right now is help my children adjust and give them the time, attention and love they need right now. The focus on their happiness and well-being will never change. 

Liz and I decided that since her business career has taken off, that she would need the week to work, but take the kids every weekend and some evenings when she had the time. She and I painstakingly poured over the details and decided that keeping the kids in the same house would be the best choice. With my work schedule and Ford not being old enough for preschool, we would need to hire a nanny. I was surprised when Liz left this up to me. Certainly she would want to be involved in every detail of their care, but letting me decide showed she had confidence in me to make the best choices for them. That gave me some peace in this whole process. 

My assistant, Cecilia, helped me set up an online ad. The applications rolled in. So many applications. I’m assuming that being the live in nanny to a senior exec, single dad was a pretty sweet gig. All of the applicants were women and most of them young. In an effort to be thorough, I interviewed many of them. They were from all corners of the world. As I invited the best applicants in for interviews, I ran into an issue. They had beautiful bodies, beautiful accents, and they were obviously attracted to me. I lost a bit of weight going through the divorce and my face was rather angular. Being married for the past eight years, I suppose I forgot I was handsome. I hadn’t noticed women checking me out anymore. Now they were everywhere and unfortunately interviewing for this job. Having a young woman in the house while going through a divorce seemed precarious and I didn’t want the room for sexual tensions to arise. After a string of disappointing interviews I finally came across a male applicant. The thought of a male nanny wasn’t something I considered, but when I gave it a moment to sink in, I liked the idea. Ford’s energy level seems to be a bit much for an older nanny, so a young man could be the perfect fit for him. Right now I wanted to focus on getting my children adjusted and keep some semblance of a routine in my life. I let Cecilia know that I’d like to meet the applicant and invited him to my office for his first interview. 

Timothée arrived on time and was escorted to my office by Cecilia. As the door cracked open and I got my first glimpse of him I was surprised by his appearance. He sent a picture with his application, but he looked different now. His features were soft, save the sharp cut of his jaw line and straight line of his nose. He had brilliant, bright green eyes with flecks of warm brown and gold. Such an uncommon color in eyes. His hair was longer, with soft waves framing his face, that bounced as he moved toward me. Timothée’s clothes were casual, but fashionable; seemingly appropriate for the job. His smile was warm and inviting. His limbs, long and gangly, giving the appearance that he hadn’t quite completed his journey to manhood. The only word that seemed to make sense in describing him was androgynous. Beautifully androgynous. I had never seen a man with this essence and I felt a little stirring of nerves, but quickly settled myself. Sitting on the desk gave me the superior position I needed to keep my cool. Hugging my arms tight around my middle, I start with my questions. 

Listening to his story, I felt the warm spread of empathy in my chest, but I didn’t let it show on my face. He seemed like a really good kid. Hard working, dedicated and smart and his whole life just fell apart following a stupid mistake. I have to admit, this mistake gave me pause. I’m not a prude about smoking weed, but it certainly isn’t something I want my nanny to be involved in. His performance in school is enough to be impressed by, so I’m willing to give him a chance. His warmth and genuine good nature comes across in the earnestness of his communication. This may work out nicely. I know I probably shouldn’t make this decision based on a good feeling, but I may have already made up my mind. The process of interviewing has been tedious and I’m ready for it to be over. We’ll have to see how well he interacts with the kids before I make my final decision. We set a time for him to come over in two days time. 

I go about the rest of my day like any other. Rushing through my work helps me leave at a reasonable time and I head home. Our sitter was nice enough to help me get through this debacle with relative ease and I relieve her for the evening. The kids and I relax after dinner with a movie and I have a few moments to myself before I head to sleep. This is the hardest part of the day. I used to spend this time with Liz getting things prepped for the next day, having a glass of wine, making love. Now I just wander around the house, trying to focus on something to do and making very little progress. I let myself relax in bed with a book to turn my mind off. Before I drift off to sleep I find myself thinking about Timothée, feeling hopeful that things will work out and I can hire him. Two more days until I get to see him next. I hope they pass quickly.


	3. Introductions of the Little Sort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothée completes his interview with an introduction to the kids. Cuteness ensues. Dinner is had. Deals are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. I'm slow. But I never give up.

The two days trudged on and it was finally time to make my way to Mr. Hammer’s house to meet the kids. I’m surprised I’m not feeling more angsty, because the wait felt like torture. When looking for a job, I know you’re not supposed to put all of your eggs in one basket, so I half-heartedly applied for a few other nanny jobs but no more interviews came through. This has to work. I need to take responsibility for my life, earn money, get out of my parents’ way and put myself back on track. But what about that bit of tension I felt between Mr. Hammer and I as I left the office? I wasn’t sure what that was, but I was still feeling excited and unsettled by it. There wasn’t a hint of gruffness about him and his ways, he just seemed anxious. The only way I can explain this to myself is that he’s going through a lot and wants things to be settled in his life, after everything got turned on its head. Of course that makes sense. I hadn’t even given this much thought. What it must be like, going through a divorce. Mr. Hammer must be sad, lost and maybe angry. Sometimes people say they are relieved when their marriages end, but I get the sense he didn’t want it to end. Maybe he’ll eventually open up to me about that, but I’m not going to pry. 

Walking up to his Manhattan brownstone, I calm myself and imagine that I’ll have the job before I leave. Something I was taught in business school about preparing for interviews. The mixture of humbleness and confidence will always get you ahead of other applicants. I’ll put these skills to use. 

One last deep breath before knocking. I wait a few seconds and he comes to let me in. Hoping he didn’t see my eyes flare, I take him in again. He looks even more handsome than before. Mr. Hammer’s wearing a cream colored cable knit sweater, worn in jeans with bare feet. He’s holding a glass of scotch in one of those heavy tumblers with a large square cube of ice that clinks around as he turns and sweeps his arm in a gesture of invitation. Mr. Hammer is smiling down at me an seems genuinely happy to see me. He asks if he can take my coat and I look around the foyer, taking in the apparent style of the brownstone. Minimal and elegant. Hardly the style you would expect from a home with small children, but I chalk it up to his ex-wife’s influence. He seems much more warm than the decor would let on. Then again, I don’t know him. It’s always fascinating to see what people do with their homes. What type of image they try to project. 

“Thanks for having me over, Mr. Hammer. I’m excited to meet the kids. Is there anything I should know before I introduce myself?” 

He takes a metered pause, as if to center himself before responding. Maybe he’s had a long day, if the drink tells me anything. “First, please call me Armie. No need to be formal in my home. Second, just be yourself. They’re kids. They’ll be interested in you no matter what if you give them attention. Unfortunately they have no stranger danger skills as of yet.” 

“Yeah, okay. I’m ready Armie,” I get out, as I nervously smooth my shirt. Shit. Not as confident as I would have liked, but there’s still time. I follow him into the family room and see the kids in the middle of a mess of toys, looking carefree and sweet. Knowing that this is just a job, I can’t help but be warmed by the gesture of this man introducing his kids to me. These are the most important parts of himself and I get to see them and possibly grow to know them. It feels like an honor, being invited into this private moment. 

I walk over and have a seat on the floor with the kids. Armie pipes up from behind us. “Kids, this is Timothée. He came over to play with you.” Harper lights up with a huge smile and hands me a teddy bear. “Hi, Timothée. My name is Harper. You came to play?” she questions with her head cocked to the side. Harper looks like a little doll in her dress with that sweet smile. “Why yes, I did. I came to play with you and your brother.” Just then, Ford comes hobbling over on his shaky little legs with a toy truck in his hand, trips and falls into my lap. He giggles as he flips himself over and looks up at me. Wow. He looks so much like his dad. I already feel warmly toward them. They’re adorable. Armie leaves us for a bit to get acquainted. Harper sets me a place at her tea party and we laugh and pretend sip our drinks. Ford is less interested, but finds a baby doll that keeps his attention as he sits near us. Harper finally loses interest in the tea party and yells for her dad, asking him if we can go outside. Armie agrees and we all put on our boots, coats, hats and gloves. Watching him bundle up Harper is so sweet. He takes such care with her and answers all of her questions with patience, crouched down so he’s at eye level. He trusts me to get Ford all snug and it feels great to help out the little guy. Ford is pretty squirmy, but I finally managed to get him arranged and ready for the cold. 

There’s still a bit of snow left that hasn’t melted and the kids dive right in. Ford doesn’t do anything too creative with the snow, but Harper goes to work trying to roll up some parts of a snow man. She pulls me by the arm and asks me to help collect the snow, which I oblige. Looking at her with pink cheeks and so full of energy, I know we’re going to be friends. She asks me questions about where I live and my favorite animals while we halfheartedly attempt to get the snow to stick together. Eventually she gets frustrated and knows there isn’t enough to make a proper snowman. “I’m sorry Harper. If I’m around next time it snows, I’ll make sure we get you that snowman.” She beams at me. “Daddy, when is Timothée coming back?” “Sweetie, I’m not sure but I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” My stomach sinks a little, but I realize that he might just be working out the details of when I start and not dismissing me completely. I’m sure it’s very important to only make promises you can keep to kids going through a divorce. Armie pulls me aside. “Listen, do you want to stay for dinner? We should talk details once the kids go to bed.” “Sure! Yes, I can stay however late you need me tonight. Thank you for the invitation.” Armie corrals everyone back inside and he offers me a hot drink while we wait for dinner. I go back in the family room with the kids while he starts dinner and dive back into the pile of toys. 

I’m feeling a little distracted while playing, because I feel confident that Armie will offer me the job and the idea of living here and caring for these kids has me giddy. What a perfect home and family to be with. I try to temper my excitement by telling myself I’m not a part of the family, I am just here to help them. Sometimes my own family disappoints me and I don’t feel very warmly toward my parents. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to this experience, to get closeness with kids and making them feel safe, secure and happy. Armie is another major draw. I think I have lots of things to learn from him about many different aspects of life and work, if he’ll let me in. Until then, I’ll keep my distance and let him know I’m available when he needs me. I refocus on the kids and enjoy being with them until Armie calls us to the dining room.

Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Not what I expected, but a nice treat for a cold day like this. Armie asks me if I want a salad. I agree and he passes me a bowl he made up. “The kids won’t eat the stuff. I try, but what can you do?” That must just be a part of every parents life. Trying to feed their kids healthy food and mostly failing. I suddenly feel like I’ve really shown up in this experience. Armie offering me a salad seems like a small gesture, but it shows he’s thinking about me and wants me to have something healthy along side this butter-laden meal. I really feel cared for and that warm feeling in my chest spreads again. He is making me feel welcome. 

I set my place and then help the kids get settled. Harper has a booster seat and Ford is still in the high chair. He gets angry with me when I strap him in, and it’s hard not to feel for the little guy. Ford eventually settles and gets cheery when Armie sets the cut up sandwich in front of him. We all sit down, with Armie next to Harper. She’s still not to be trusted with soup and needs a little help getting it from the bowl to her mouth. I start eating while studying the way Armie is with the kids. He sneaks bites of his own food in-between managing the kids. He doesn’t get to sit and savor his meal, which I feel he deserves. Someday soon, I’ll be helping and give him some of the time he needs to care for himself. The meal carries on like this and soon we’re finished. I offer to do the dishes, but he insists that I leave them. “You’re not on the clock yet, after all.” I grin at him and agree to head back to the living room with the kids while he finishes straightening up. Putting on some Netflix, we settle onto the couch. Ford isn’t interested in shows yet, so I set up some toys for him next to me. Harper asks if she can snuggle me. I extend my arm and she tucks in really tight next to me. It’s so sweet that she wants to be close to me like this. I really cherish this moment and know that I’ll have many more like this over the coming year. 

Armie comes and sits on the couch near us. He asks Harper if she’s comfy and she replies, “Yes, Daddy. Timmy is very comfy.” Armie lets out a chuckle. “She really likes you. I’m glad to see you getting along so well.” 

“She’s pretty easy to love,” I let out without thinking. Is this too much? Have I gone too far? 

“That she is,” he replies while laying a gentle hand on her head. He seems unfazed by my declaration. I see the love in his eyes, and then watch his face fall. He must be sad that her life isn’t going as planned. When a child is born, I think you picture what their life will be like and this is far from the path he expected. I’m sure he’s wondering how to be good to them, while being a single dad. It must be way more pressure than being a married dad. He draws his hand back and declares its bath time. Harper groans and says she doesn’t want to leave me. She turns on some fake tears to try to steal away a few more minutes, but he insists and he scoops up Ford. Harper gives me a hug and says she wants to play again soon. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be about 45 minutes with baths and bedtime stories.” 

This feels so surreal. Just a few weeks ago I was set to graduate from business school, now I’m sitting on a couch in someone’s home waiting to discuss a job offer. This is never what I pictured as an interview. Shaking my head, I try to push out the anxiety and strangeness I feel. Pulling out my phone I distract myself with social media for a while. 

Armie returns, looking tired, but ready to tackle our conversation. He invites me to the kitchen and ask me to sit at one of the stools by the island. Without asking he opens a bottle of wine and pours two glasses. That is pretty presumptuous, but also a nice gesture. 

“Well, Timothée, you have the job if you want it,” he says while raising his glass. 

“Yes, of course I’ll take it,” I say through a smile while raising my glass to his. Clink. He takes a long draw of the red wine and really seems to be enjoying himself. 

“That’s a relief! I’m really glad to have found you. I think the kids will be really happy having you around.” 

I am sincerely touched, “Thank you, Armie. This is such a great opportunity for me. I’m really happy to have met you and your kids. Don’t I need to meet Liz though before we finalize this?”

“No, she trusted me to make the best choice, but you will meet her soon. She sometimes picks the kids up and takes them out to dinner during the week and we have the handoff on Friday and Sunday nights. I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. She’s really focused on her work right now, so she might seem a bit distant. That’s just how she is. Don’t let it get to you.” 

“Okay, sure. I’ll keep that in mind. So when do I start?”

“Is Monday too soon?” he asks with a hint of urgency. He must be desperate for the help. 

“Yeah, I think I can do that. Can I drop my stuff off on Sunday? I want to make sure I’m ready to go first thing in the morning.”

“No problem. You can come over whenever you need to over the weekend. I’ll be home most of the time. Your room is ready. Just text me when you’re headed over. Now the matter of pay. Room and board is free. I have a food service that stocks my pantry and fridge every week and you can order whatever you want. If you want to buy health insurance I’ll reimburse you for that. You can have two weeks off a year for vacation and a week of sick leave if you need it. We’ll be away for most holidays so you’ll have the house to yourself then. My babysitter can fill in from time to time or I can take a day off work if necessary. I understand things come up and I’m sure you’ll need some days here and there just for yourself. So, I’m thinking $100,000 for the year, before taxes.”

I choke on my sip of wine. That’s significantly more than I was expecting, considering he’s basically paying all my living expenses. “Really, that much?” I ask while wiping the wine off my mouth. 

He smirks at me. He must be thinking I’m such a kid right now. I bet that’s nothing but a drop in the bucket for him. “Listen, this is not an easy job. Taking care of kids these ages is exhausting and I don’t want you to have any reason to not treat them as best you can. There will be long days. I’ll want you on duty from breakfast until I have dinner on the table Monday through Friday. You don’t have to eat dinner with us if you don’t want to. You’ll be invited though, any time you like. Money is a motivator and I hope it helps you show up and give it your best with them.” 

“Wow, yeah, I’m ready for it. You can probably tell I have a ton of energy and patience. I know it won’t be easy, but I think I’m the right person. I will take this job very seriously.”

“I know you will, Timothée. That’s why I’m choosing you,” he says while staring into my eyes. As a matter of business, this is probably the most important. I feel that from him. His situation is precarious. His children’s lives are in flux. He wants to make sure they are safe and happy and I get to be a key part of that. I get to be a stable, consistent force in their lives. This job actually feels more meaningful than I anticipated. 

“I’m so grateful. I hope this is a really good experience for the kids. I know they need a lot of attention right now. I’ll be there for them.” What am I saying? I just met them. How can I already feel this way about them? I really don’t want to deny how I’m feeling, but it seems like a lot all at once. Then I realize, it’s because they’re part of him. And I admire the hell out of him. He’s a good man, caring for his family. He could be a sloppy mess, out every night of the week trying to pick up women, but he’s here in this quiet home, showing up for his kids. He intrigues me. I want to learn more about his personality and his past. I sincerely hope he lets me in. Somehow, I trust that he will. He probably needs a confidant and I’ll be there for it. Maybe someday we’ll even be close. Who knows? 

We finish our drinks and he takes me to the front door. He grabs my coat and clumsily helps me into it. I’m kind of shocked. He seems that way too. Isn’t it a little strange for a man to help another man put on his coat? I see his cheeks flush with red, as he backs away from me clearing his throat, wrapping his arms around his middle. He raises a hand to clasp his chin. “Sorry, force of habit. I always did that for Liz. I guess I’m a little out of sorts.”

“No worries, Armie. So I’ll see you this weekend?” I want to brush it off quickly so he doesn’t feel too embarrassed. 

“Yeah, just let me know when. Send me texts with any questions that come up. I’ll have your contract drawn up for Sunday.”

“Great, thanks again. I’m excited to start.”

“I’m excited too,” he says with a glint in his eye. “Oh, I’m putting in my order for groceries tomorrow. Is there anything I can get you?”

“I’m not picky, but I do like a glass of orange juice in the morning. The kind with lots of pulp.”

“You’ve got it. Goodnight.”


	4. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big day is finally here! See the energy exchange when Timothée settles into his new home. There's hauling boxes, books, pizza and wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my amazing friend and editor for helping with this chapter. @inthemid80s

Closing the door, I sigh in relief, hoping that this new change brings some stability to my life.  Timothée seems like such a capable guy and I feel good for giving him this opportunity to get his life on track.  What is that saying?  When you’re at the hardest time in your life, go help someone else?  I think that’s what this means to me.  He’s struggling, I’m struggling, but I can offer him something, so I should.  Realizing that I have something to offer and the world isn’t over, helps me move through the sadness and loss.  

With the children still snug in their beds, I settle down on the couch to relax and shake my head at putting his coat on.  He didn’t seem to be weirded out, and I’m glad for that.  These little events happen throughout every day.  Moments when I realize Liz is gone and everything is different.  They usually don’t involve other people and I’m embarrassed Timothée saw that part of me.  I’m sure it won’t be the last.  I’ve been able to hide how I’m feeling from most people in my life, but I imagine I won’t be able to do that in my own home.  Thinking more on what’s to come, I let my mind drift off and accidentally fall asleep on the couch.  

___________________________________

Sunday has arrived quickly and Timothée arranged to come over at noon to start unpacking his things.  The kids are with their mom until 7pm, so it’s just the two of us when he arrives.  I meet him outside and he quickly introduces me to his father, who drove him.  His dad is friendly enough and helps bring in the few boxes and bags he has.  Pitching in, I grab a box and it’s incredibly heavy for its size.  

“Hey Timothée, what do you have in here?” I pry.  

“Oh, I didn’t tell you.  I have a little library.  I’ve tried to keep it small, but somehow more and more books make their way in.  Do you want me to get that one?”  

“No, no, I’ve got it.  Just curious,” I reply.  He has a library.  I wonder what it contains.  Back in the day, before kids, I would devour whole books over the weekend.  It’s something I need to get back to.  Maybe his reading habit will inspire me.  I chuckle to myself about him offering to carry it.  He’s not a total weakling, but I’m definitely the more capable one when it comes to carrying heavy things.  He has several more boxes like it, which I transport up to his room.  All the up and down has me working up a bit of a sweat.  Before I know it, everything is moved in.  His dad shakes my hand and leaves without much fanfare.  It makes me a little sad for him that his dad doesn’t have anything to say to him or extends him a hug.  Maybe they aren’t on the best of terms right now, or maybe this is how they typically interact.  Perhaps he’ll tell me more about that another time, but I won’t pry. 

I go up to check on Timothée, making sure he’s settling in okay.  He tells me he has everything he needs.  I encourage him to come to me with anything and he warmly smiles at me.  He seems to be happy with his room and is diligently lining up his books on one of his bookshelves.  

Leaving him be, I decide to pick up a book I’ve been meaning to get to for some time.  I have a perfect reading spot in my bedroom.  A lovely slate blue chaise lounge right near a sunny window with a fluffy blanket draped over the side.  The book I chose is The Picture of Dorian Gray.  I know that it’s a classic, but the details of the story evade me now.  This was most likely purchased in an effort to get my nose out of all the business-related books I’m normally drawn to. Reading the classics is something every well-rounded man should do, right? My scope was definitely becoming myopic and it’s time to challenge myself in a different way. A fleeting thought runs through my mind about staleness. Maybe that’s something that repelled Liz. I take note of this and will come back later when I’m more prepared to consider this. 

Starting the book, I’m struck by the imagery and focus on beauty as a value.  Eventually I nod off and wake with a start.  I realize that I’m not alone in the house and hope that Timothée hasn’t needed me for anything.  Throwing off the blanket, I get up and make my way to his room.  I see him hanging up some clothes in the closet, but the room looks mostly finished.  He hasn’t heard me walk up, so I hang back for a moment and watch him bop around with his headphones on.  In this moment, he looks innocent and happy.  This is what he looks like relaxed.  It’s a different energy, and it makes me even happier to have chosen him.  He seems relatively carefree, considering the circumstances in his life.  

After probably an inappropriate amount of time lurking, I decided to knock on his door loudly and he startles.  Removing the headphones, he laughs awkwardly.  

“I hope you didn’t see me dancing,” he asserts, wrapping his arms around his middle, looking at his feet.  The carefree attitude is gone and he now seems painfully self-aware.  

“Only a little,” I say through a grin.  I shift my eyes down and look up at him again.  He looks small and embarrassed.  I’m sure it’s hard to be comfortable in someone else’s home, but I want him to be.  “Dance all you want.  I used to.  These floors are great for sliding around in your socks.”  

He laughs.  “I’ll keep that in mind, especially for my Risky Business dance.”  His eyes go wide and he covers his open mouth with his palm.  He is mortified.  He’s a comedian! 

I can’t hold back my belly laugh, and I double over.  This kid is killing me.  “Hey man, do what makes you happy.  All I care about is you wear pants around the children,” I get out through more laughing.  He’s trying so hard to make a good impression, but I can see he’s silly and light.  I hope that stays.  

“Noted,” he replies, loosening up.  He almost looks amused, or at least happy with my reaction.  

“When you’re done do you want to go get a slice with me?” 

“Yeah, Armie.  That sounds great.  Give me about half an hour, okay?”

“Sure thing.  I’ll be in my room.”

I settle down with my book again and wait for him to wrap up.  He peeks his head in my door in a timid way and says he’s ready to go.  

There’s a great place for slices a few blocks down and it’s not too cold to walk today.  We head out on foot and I point to some of the places I like for food, coffee and shopping.  I try to hide the wave of sadness I feel, showing him all the places I used to frequent with Liz.  There are so many memories here and then somehow, I’m excited to make new memories on my own, with the kids and maybe with him.  Liz wasn’t big on pizza.  She’d never come here with me.  Timothée seems enamored with his new neighborhood, so he doesn’t notice me rolling through all these different emotions.  

We settle into a booth with our slices and he digs in with questions, asking me for more details of his duties and what the kids are like.  He seems genuinely excited to watch over them and wants to know more about their personalities.  I haven’t lit up talking about my kids for a while.  Even with all the love I feel for them, sometimes they make me sad because they are living embodiments of my failures with their mother.  They carry no blame, but I see her in their faces.  It feels good to talk about my favorite stories with levity again.  

Timothée’s smiling and engaged with my stories and I take note of the softness of his face.  The shape his curls make around that soft face.  The delicate way he uses his hands to eat.  The way he looks into my eyes, but not too long, as if he’s still shy with me.  I assume he is, because we’ve only just met and he’s wanting to make a good impression.  He sits with his shoulders stooped, as if he’s trying to close in on himself.  His legs are crossed.  He makes himself small.  Maybe this will change after he gets to know me better, maybe not.  Timothée seems unlike other men his age.  He isn’t boisterous or egotistical.  He’s present, aware and kind.  I see why he made such a good student and maybe I see a little bit of my former self in him.  Experiencing him this way makes me even happier with my choice.  

We take a longer, slower walk back to the house and take in more of the sights of the neighborhood, including the park my children like to frequent and a kid’s gym they can go to on the colder days.  The chill in the air and the walk leaves both of our cheeks red.  He looks especially handsome with this color on his face and I try not to notice too much.  I hardly notice when men look handsome. I’ll admit, I’ve admired a man on a rare occasion. Especially those with a modern or unique sense of style. Best to shrug this off for now. We chill on the couch for a few minutes, waiting for Liz to show up with the kids.  There’s a bunch of clamoring and I hear the kids’ voices.  Timothée and I get up to greet them.  I see a wave of nervousness wash over his face.  This is his first time meeting her and he must make a good impression, yet again.  

Liz is reaching down, helping Ford with something and when she looks up, I see her pause for a second when she lays eyes on Timothée.  She has a look of surprise on her face.  I don’t know what that’s about and I don’t have time to process, because the Harper is screaming in excitement to see her manny again and Ford is crying and clinging to Liz’s leg.  Timothée seems struck by the emotional barrage, but reaches out his hand to her and they shake.  

“Hi Liz, I’m Timothée.  Very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she responds curtly with a tiny bit of shock still on her face.  It’s something in the arch of her brows.  She doesn’t seem to share the sentiment.  

Timothée gives her his cell phone number for emergencies and asks if she wants to make time to talk more about the kids.  She agrees to the idea and suggests they find a time next weekend, perhaps she will come in for a while on Friday before she takes off with them.  He continues to smile nervously as Harper pulls on his arm, trying to drag him away.  Liz crouches down for her goodbye hugs and kisses, trying to soothe Ford and peel him off.  She gives Timothée permission to take the children to the play room and we’re alone. 

“What’s up Liz?”  I’m not about to beat around the bush.  Something’s off.  

“He’s just not what I expected.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” I retort, with a little bit of edge in my voice.  

“Well, your description of him.  Business student, 22 years old.  I guess I expected him to be cleaner cut or something.  He looks kind of bohemian and soft.”

“You think he looks strange?”

“Not at all.  He seems really approachable and obviously has made a good impression on the kids.  That’s all that matters to me,” she replies with a tight-lipped smile.  I’m assuming there’s something she’s held back, but I have no desire to push her.  “I’m going to leave.  See you Friday at 6pm.”  She turns and is gone before I have time to say goodbye.  Every time she shuts the door on my, I feel a little pain in my chest. We used to embrace, kiss, wish each other well at the door. This wasn’t the warm reception I was expecting, but I don’t need to give it any more thought.  

It’s time for baths and bedtime, so I pry the kids away from Timothée.  Harper is being especially difficult, but I finally corral her.  We do our evening routine and then the kids are out.  

I open a bottle of wine and call for Timothée to come into the kitchen.  I ask if he’d like a glass and he accepts, sitting down at the bar.  I notice it feels nicer to have company with my evening glass of wine. 

“Did I do something wrong, Armie?” He has a quizzical look on his face, probably wondering why Liz was that way with him.  

“Nothing wrong, no.  She’s just tired and busy.  No need to worry.”  He seems soothed and we begin looking over his contract.  

Timothée agrees to the terms and asks if I’m sure about the pay.  He’s underselling himself and I tell him so.  He seems to understand and he signs the contract.  We toast to the beginning of our employer-employee relationship.  I tell him to be down by 7:30am, which is when we usually start breakfast.  He agrees and says he has a bit more to do in his room.  I refill his glass and he turns to leave.  Maybe it’s the wine, but I grab onto his shoulder and turn him toward me.  I tell him again that I’m happy to have him, while holding his gaze.  He looks shy again, but pleased.  Taking his glass of wine, he leaves and closes the door to his room.  When I decide to turn in, I walk by his door and see the light is on, but it’s silent.  I suppose he’s in bed with a good book.  And I go do the same.  Having another person in the house makes it feel a little bit warmer than it has in months.


	5. First Day Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothée starts his job and embarks on some adventures with the kids and on his own.

I wake with a start.  I set my alarm extra early, to assure that I made it downstairs in time.  The house is still quiet, so I tip toe to the bathroom, as not to wake the children or Armie.  It’s strange getting oriented to these new surroundings.  The fixtures are shiny, modern chrome.  Every surface is perfectly clean and gleaming.  I’m used to older, more utilitarian decorations.  Removing my pajamas, I take a moment looking at myself in the mirror, checking that I’m really here.  My reality has shifted so much, I must check in to confirm this is really my life.  I’m hoping this will soon feel normal and comfortable.  The shower is wide open with lots of light streaming in from the sky light.  The hot water helps me feel awake, even though I didn’t sleep well.  

Stepping out of the shower, I see myself in the long mirror, hair dripping streams of water down my chest and back, cheeks pink from the heat. It’s been a while since I’ve taken myself in, this way and I frown at my reflection, wishing I didn’t look like an ill Victorian. Self-care has not been my priority lately. My collar bones and hips are jutting out, not a bit of fat on them. I think to myself I should focus on putting on some weight and maybe take advantage of the free weights in the workout room. After patting myself dry and wrapping a towel around my waist, I hear some stirring and go out into the hall.  Armie must have woken earlier without my knowing, as he’s dressed in his suit and tie.  He turns to see me in just the towel.  I startle, “Oh, sorry.”  I cinch the towel tighter in my fist and turn quickly to shuffle toward my room.  Armie responds, “Don’t worry about it,” in a nonchalant tone.  As he’s talking to my back, I wonder if he watched me make the way to my room.  This wasn’t a scenario I’d imagined playing out.  Living with a family again, privacy might be hard to come by.  I get dressed while making a mental note to buy a robe.  I don’t want another awkward run in like that.  Taking a moment to agonize over my outfit, I stare into my new closet.  I want to look nice, but need to be comfortable.  Jeans, a black pull over V-neck sweater and some broken in Chuck Taylors seem right for the occasion.  I fix my hair in the mirror and take a deep breath.  Here goes nothing.  

The kitchen already smells delicious with the scent of coffee, bacon and eggs cooking.  I spy a beautiful bowl of fruit on the kitchen table where the kids are sitting, barely contained.  Ford is pounding on his high chair and Harper is playing with some dolls.  She yells when she sees me and jumps out of her chair.  She grabs me around my legs, and jumps up and down.  “Morning, sunshine,” I say while patting her head, smiling down on her.  

“What are we going to do today, Timmy?” Harper wants to know.  

“Harper, dear.  Let Timmy sit down and we’ll talk about our plans for the day.”

“Okay, daddy.  I just want to play with Timmy.”

“I’m sure there will be lots of playing today, sweetheart.” 

With that she is content enough and makes her way back to the table.  Armie brings over the kids plates and lets them dig in.  I’m still standing, looking like I don’t know what to do.  This feels like helping myself to things in a stranger’s house.  Armie places a hand on my shoulder and says, “Help yourself to whatever you like.  There are more choices in the fridge if you don’t like bacon and eggs.  Coffee’s ready in the French press.  Your orange juice is in the door.”  I’m glad for the guidance and make my plate and pour myself some juice and cup of coffee. I sit down with the family smiling, enjoying the opportunity to be with all of them.  This seems like a pleasant way to start the day, and I remember it’s been ages since the last time I had a family meal at the dining table.  Harper then starts telling a story about a bird she saw at the park and whips her arms around, sending her cup flying.  It bangs against the wall and the lid is dislodged.  Milk is everywhere.  She starts crying, then Ford starts crying.  Armie shakes his head and he looks at me.  “Here we go.  Welcome to the family!” he says in a sarcastic, but playful tone.  

“Let me,” I reply, getting up from my chair.  Armie touches my shoulder again and pushes me gently back into my seat.  “No, no.  Please.  If you don’t eat now, you never will.  I’ll get it.”  Armie sops up the mess with some paper towels and gets Harper a new cup.  He pats her on the head and tells her everything is fine, he’s not mad.  Ford settles on his own and is back digging into his breakfast.  Armie tells me to check my emails and I quickly fish my phone out of my pocket.  Armie has emailed an agenda and list of important contacts.  He talks me through the events of the day, while Harper listens intently.  

“All the locations are plugged into the GPS of your car.  Just do your best to show up on time and if you’re late don’t sweat it.  Everyone understands the traffic situation around here.”

Harper gives her two-cents, “But daddy, I want to be with Timmy today.  Do I have to go to school?”

“Yes, baby.  You have to go.  Timmy is living with us now, so you’ll see him all the time and get to play after school.  Finish your breakfast please.”  He’s so sweet, yet firm with her.  Just the right touch.  I take note of that in case she and I have any future butting of heads.  Harper pushes some food around for a moment with a pout on her face, but eventually starts working on finishing again.  She recovers quickly.  

“Timothée if you have any problems at all today, please just text or call me.  If it’s an emergency and I don’t answer quickly enough, you can call Liz too.  Okay?  Nothing is too trivial if you need help.  I expect there will be lots of questions these first few weeks.” 

“Sure okay, I’ll do that.  Hoping to let you have a peaceful day at work, though,” I say, trying to reassure him that his kids are in safe hands.  He smiles warmly at me.  

“It’s about that time.  Keys to the car are by the door.  Any questions you can think of?” Armie asks while collecting the dishes and putting them in the sink.  

“Any tricks I can use if they are crying or upset?”  

“Great question!  Yes.  Harper loves to sing Frozen.  If you don’t know the words, you will soon.  Just ask her to sing Let It Go and she’ll usually snap out of it.  Ford loves this little stuffed fox.  I keep it near most of the time.  Let him hold it and if he doesn’t relax, you can pick him up and swing him around.  Also, always try food.  They eat way more than you would expect and get hungry at unusual times.”  

“Oh, thanks so much.  That really helps.  I’ll take it from here.  Have a good day at work,” I say as he kisses the children goodbye.  Ford starts to fuss and breaks out into a loud wail, as Armie walks away.  He turns to me and mouths:  I’m sorry.   Armie clears the corner and I hear him close the front door.  This is it.  Just me and the kids.  I feel a little wave of panic, then remind myself that I’ve done this before.  Ford doesn’t want his fox, so I grab him out of the high chair and swing him around while talking to him in a soothing tone.  It works, thank goodness!  

“All right Harper.  Are you ready for school?”  

“Can we just play?”

“No sweetie, your dad said you had to go.  Isn’t it fun at school?”

“Sometimes.  But I want to stay with you.”

“Let’s just give it a shot.  I’ll take you there and see if you like it, okay?”

She thinks on this for a moment before replying, “Okay, Timmy.”  

Whew, all is in order for now.  I bundle up the kids in their coats and boots.  Armie packed Harper’s bag for her and it’s hanging by the door and the diaper bag is ready for Ford.  That was a kind gesture.  I hope to help him with more things like this in the future.  We make it to the car and I to fiddle with the car seats for far too long.  How do they make these so complicated?  Luckily, Harper patiently waits and entertains herself as I secure Ford.  Ford swings his little legs and asks for Dada.  I feel for the little guy.  I tell him he’s with me today and we finally make our way toward the school.  Harper requests the music selection, so of course we’re listening to the Frozen soundtrack.  I have heard it before many times, which is lucky, so I can just tune it out and focus on driving.  

When we get to the school, one of the aides comes to the car to get Harper.  She’s excited to see the aide and forgets that she wanted to play with me today.  I notice how beautiful the aide is.  She must be my age and she holds my gaze a little too long, after introducing herself.  For a moment, I was stunned.  I forgot people were attracted to me.  Then I briefly considered my role as a male nanny and how that must be attractive to some.  I shake my head and try to refocus on the task at hand.  Ford and I wish Harper goodbye and it’s just the two of us.  This seems much easier.  Just the one kid to wrangle.  

Armie’s suggestions of activities included a kid’s gym, so Ford and I head there to check it out.  Walking in, I’m overwhelmed with the noise.  Kids screaming in every corner of the building, running, jumping.  There’s a section that seems to be designated for the younger kids and I plop Ford down.  He forgets I exist and runs to the ball pit.  He topples over and laughs as he is enveloped in the pit.  I laugh too, as I take my seat on a nearby bench.  

There are a handful of women seated in the area ranging from my age to most likely late 40’s.  They stare at me and my stomach clenches, but I get the nerve up to wave hello and everyone relaxes.  It must not be often that they see new faces here.  

One of the women asks me if I’m new.  I give her the rundown about my job and this being my first day.  She smiles and nods at my story and asks me more about the family.  I tell her about Harper, Armie and the divorce.  She looks concerned, and warns me of the mind games people play going through a divorce, while shaking her head.  Perhaps she has been burned by this before.  I suppose this isn’t something I’ve given much thought.  Armie doesn’t seem to be worried or scared about Liz or her interactions with me, but maybe I just haven’t gotten to know them well enough yet.  

I try not to worry about this and notice one of the younger nannies trying not to stare at me and failing.  She has sparkling dark brown eyes and brown hair with natural blonde highlights tied back in a black ribbon.  Her face is incredibly angular, but also soft in places with bits of pink on the apples of her cheeks.  There’s a large black shawl draped over her shoulders, with some modern skinny jeans and clean, white tennis shoes.  She’s stunning and I try to direct my attention toward her, open my mouth, and nothing comes out.  

The woman giggles and says hello in an obviously French accent.  Amazing.  I never thought my French father forcing me to become bilingual would come in handy like this.  I reply, “Bon matin.  Ça va?” Our conversation takes off in French and I learn she’s an au pair, living in my neighborhood.  She’s been here for about a year and isn’t very fond of her family, but signed a three-year contract, so she’s trying to make the best of it.  I try to offer her some support, as much as you can to a relative stranger.  

Her child comes running up and collapses into her lap.  She seems to feel warmly toward her and the girl asks if they can leave.  As she’s standing up, I ask her name.  Lily-Rose she says.  I tell her mine with the proper French pronunciation.  She laughs and extends her hand for me to shake, repeating my name and beaming down at me.  Lily-Rose says she hopes to see me again and I promise her she will.  

The other nannies are side eyeing us throughout this interaction, but I don’t care.  I didn’t take this job to make friends and honestly didn’t assume I would.  This is such a strange thing to occur on my first day of work, but it makes me hopeful that this job may bring unexpected, good things into my life beyond learning from a successful business man about how to balance life and work.  Maybe now I can have the space in my life for love and sex that didn’t exist before when I was so focused on school.  

Ford doesn’t want to leave and starts crying when I put on his coat.  Assuredly, I tell him how sorry I am and that we’ll be back soon.  He doesn’t comprehend, obviously.  I pick him up and haul him to the car while he’s still crying.  No one seems to care.  I suppose the nannies are used to this kind of thing.  When we get back home I make Ford a snack, then get him ready for his nap.  He tired himself out enough that this is an easy process.  I have an hour to myself and pick up a book and try to busy myself while waiting for the rest of my day to unfold.  

I feel good establishing a routine.  Ford wakes and we go get Harper from school, as she only goes half-days.  I decide since it’s our first day, I’ll take them out to lunch.  We stop in at a Jewish deli.  The food is comforting and familiar and the kids are relatively well behaved throughout.  They both make big dents in their plates and I order a couple of cookies for us to share.  

The temperature has improved, so we go for a little stroll after lunch.  Armie has one of those fancy double strollers and we make our way to a park.  I let the kids run around for a few moments and then we all get too chilly and head back to the car.  

Once we settle in at home, I set up Candyland for Harper and me.  Ford tries to join in, knocking our pieces off the board and Harper gets upset.  Luckily, I distract Ford with some cars and dolls and he leaves us alone for a while.  

Next, we snuggle on the couch and watch some cartoons, dozing off for a bit.  When we wake, Harper asks to make some art and I get out the washable paints for her and some crayons for Ford.  I find an adult coloring book.  Maybe something left behind by the babysitter or Liz?  I can’t really imagine Armie coloring floral prints or animals for relaxation, but maybe he does?  Harper goes on telling me about her favorite things, her day and her mom.  She’s a really great story teller for 4 years old.  

Before I know it, it’s 6pm and Armie comes through the door.  The kids are excited to see him and I feel a little flutter in my stomach watching him set down his bag, removing his coat and jacket.  Armie looks tired, but incredibly handsome.  I wonder for a second why I am admiring him this way, but I don’t have time to ponder it much.  He asks for a few minutes and goes upstairs.  When he comes back down he is wearing well fitted sweats and slippers.  I’m glad he feels this comfortable around me already.  It is his house, but being this casual conveys the tone and it makes me happy.  Armie starts in on making dinner and asks if I care to join them.  I accept because I notice I’m tired at this point and don’t want to eat out or run to the store.  I occupy the kids for a few more minutes.  Armie finishes a quick meal and calls for us to come to the dining room.  

He asks me how my day went and how the kids behaved.  I run him through the day, leaving out the part about Lily-Rose, and he says he’s happy everything went so smoothly.  Armie seems relieved that there were no major incidents.  Harper goes on about how much fun she had with me and that seems to add to his satisfaction.  I ask him about his day and he says he doesn’t like to talk much about work around the kids.  That seems a little odd to me, but maybe it’s just their age.  He picks up talking about the plan for tomorrow as not to leave a lingering silence between us.  We finish our meal and he offers me wine, which I accept.  This is an evening ritual I could get used to.  

Although Armie doesn’t push me to leave them, I think it best to give them alone time.  I’m assuming that’s what Armie will want in the evenings anyway.  Retiring to my room, I pull out my book and sip my wine, getting lost in a novel.  I register the sounds of the baths and Armie putting down the kids, but continue to read until I start getting drowsy.  Before I drift off to sleep, I get a flash of Lily-Rose’s face and find an erection beginning.  It seems so strange to feel this way in a home with kids, but I remind myself that parents have sex and masturbate all the time with kids in the house.  This is my new normal and it’s okay to jerk off when I need to.  

Relaxing, I roll onto my stomach and grasp my cock, rocking my hips and letting the friction of rutting against the bed add to the sensation of tightly gripping myself.  I bury my face in a pillow to stifle the sounds of my heavy breathing and make sure I keep any sounds to a minimum.  As things are building, I hear Armie talking on the phone in the next room.  The sound of his voice takes me out of my trance and I strain to hear what he is saying, but all I pick up on are the low tones and what seems to be a cheerful conversation.  Knowing he’s right there makes this feel like this is a transgression, but it also excites me.  Maybe I like the idea of being caught?  I wonder if there will be times when we’re both jerking off in separate rooms and find a mental image of that in my mind.  To my surprise, it takes me down the path of a whole new fantasy and I imagine Armie watching me and Lily-Rose have sex from the doorway.  This scenario takes me over and I come into my hand.  The experience gives me such relief and I’m happy to see where my sexual imagination is going.  

I clean up with a tissue, but think I should wash up a little more before bed.  I slip on my boxers and walk toward the bathroom.  To my surprise, Armie’s bedroom door is open and he makes eye contact with me as I’m walking.  He gives me a crooked smile, not seeming bothered by this in the slightest, maybe he’s even amused.  I hurry into the bathroom and look at my face.  It’s beet red, as well as my chest, and my hair is messy from sweat and rubbing into the pillow.  Fuck.  I look like I’ve been jerking off.  I just moved in and this is already feeling embarrassing.  There has to be more planning involved in the future when it comes to nudity and masturbation.  I would hate to start feeling uncomfortable around Armie.  Making a resolution to be more diligent, I clean up and head back to my room.  I don’t see Armie on my trip back and sigh in relief after shutting my door.  Exhausted, I collapse onto my bed and sleep soundly for the first time in weeks.  


	6. Phone Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie dabbles with a fantasy he never knew he had. Embarrassment and confusion ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! Thank you! Thank you to inthemid80s for help editing and her creative genius. You are the best friend!!

“How did it go?” Liz asked anxiously over the phone. 

“Everything went incredibly smoothly. The kids really like him. Harper said she had a fun day with Timmy and Ford was his usual smiley self,” I replied with a bit of edge in my voice. I’m getting in touch with my anger over her lack of involvement in this whole nanny business. On one hand, I’m glad she didn’t complicate anything with her opinions, and on the other I feel as though she doesn’t care about the kids as much as she used to. That makes me hurt for them. I don’t want this divorce to impact the way they experience love from either of us. My lack of control in this situation is finally taking its toll. I decided to adjust my attitude in the interest of not fighting with her. I’m definitely done fighting with her. “I’m feeling really hopeful and I will keep you in the loop if I’m noticing any behavior that seems problematic. Please let me know if Harper has any complaints or he’s not meeting your expectations.”

“Yes, thanks, Armie. I appreciate that. I’ll plan on taking the kids tomorrow right after work if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, goodnight Liz.”

I hang up feeling relief that I managed this call well. Looking up, I see Timmy walking down the hallway in his boxers. How many times will I see this guy in his underwear before this is all said and done? I laugh a bit to myself and smile at him. Timmy looks rather tousled and pink as he pretends to not notice me and slinks into the bathroom. I wonder what he was doing in his room. He’s 22, so I know what he was doing. The years where his life is controlled by his sex drive are still present. Hell, they are barely over for me. 

I wonder if my sex drive will return to its previous state when I don’t feel so sad anymore. Not much is turning me on these days. There’s never been a time in my life where I felt loss like this and the changes I’ve experienced were unexpected. Mostly, I’m grateful that my relationship hasn’t changed with my children. If anything, it’s become stronger. I’m more attentive and careful because I want them to be happy and healthy. 

Listening for Timmy to wrap up in the bathroom, I watch as he tip toes back to his room. He’s so slight he would barely make noise if he stomped. Not the type of man most are attracted to, but I admire his back. The long lines of his lean muscles look beautiful in the shadows. His skin is so pale and unblemished. I wonder what it would feel like to trace one of those lines along his spine with my extended finger. 

What am I doing? I feel surprised that I’m paying such attention to my nanny’s body. That was the whole point of hiring a man: sex would not complicate the relationship. Even though we’re divorced, I didn’t want Liz to see me interacting with a young woman and create some sort of animosity between us. I recognize that I need to get whatever this is in check. Who could I talk to about this? No one. My friends would just call me crazy or say my brain isn’t working correctly because the effects of the divorce are settling in. I think they would tell me I just need to go get laid. That’s always the first advice they give men after a divorce, which is total crap. Having sex with someone new would just be a distraction. A bandaid, when what I really need is surgery. Where is my wound, though? What do I need to make my life full again? Maybe it’s time to find a therapist. I make note of that before I drift off to sleep. 

Halfway through setting out breakfast, Timmy pops into the kitchen with a big smile on his face. He greets us all with a cheery “good morning” and I’m grateful for his positive attitude. Harper cracks a big grin and says, “Hi Timmy Tim!” He breaks out in a laugh and Ford joins along in the fun, giggling his little heart out. After my mini dilemma last night, it feels good to know that he is still the right person for this job. He looks fresh and adorable, with his curls still wet from his shower. I pinch myself, trying to reign in my affection. Find a therapist today, I remind myself. 

We all sit down together, run through the agenda and I tell the kids their mom will pick them up tonight. Ford doesn’t pay attention, but Harper perks up. She seems a little conflicted and I ask if everything is okay. Hesitantly, she tells me that she wants to play with Timmy today. I explain to her again that he isn’t going anywhere and she will see him lots in the future. She’s not really understanding the concept of the future yet and cries a little. Timmy sweetly takes her hands and tells her that it will be okay and asks her if she wants to go to the park after school today. She brightens up he wipes the tears from her cheeks and she settles, but sniffles as she eats the rest of her breakfast. Timmy looks at me with a pained look in his eyes. I can tell her display affected him and he’s feeling a ton of sympathy. 

“She’s sweet, huh?” I ask him. 

“The absolute sweetest. I wonder if maybe we can do something special Friday? You know, to celebrate making it though our first week together?” 

He is so endearing, how could I resist a request like this?

“Liz picks them up at 6pm on Fridays, but maybe I’ll take a half day at work and we can all go to lunch and a movie? It will be some silly kids movie, but could be fun. What do you think?” 

His face lights up. “That sounds perfect. I would love to do that. Thanks, Armie.” He reaches out and pats me on the shoulder. I’m a little surprised by his physical affection, but I enjoy how free he is with that affection. 

We rush through the rest of the meal, and I say my goodbyes. When I get to work I feel out of sorts, but have to hit the ground running as usual. There isn’t much time for me to feel discombobulated, so that makes the day pass quickly until I take off for lunch. Sitting at a deli, I scroll through therapists on my phone and find someone who specializes in post-divorce therapy. That seems to be the ticket and I send off an email to request a first appointment. I feel a little better knowing I am taking steps to move on with my life, now that the kids are getting settled. 

Another day at work complete, I make my way back to the house. Timmy is standing in the doorway helping Liz get the kids on their way. I stand back and watch this interaction, as no one has spotted me. She looks different. It’s been a long time since she wore her hair down and it’s a different color. Darker. Liz knows that I loved her hair dark and part of me wonders if this is some sort of dig at me. Wanting to know how Liz is with him, I keep watching and see her place a hand on his upper arm and squeeze. She’s flirting and I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I hadn’t anticipated this. Of course Liz would be wanting to move on and date, but why would she flirt with him? That seems wildly inappropriate. She turns to leave and I hope this is an isolated incident or I read into it more than necessary. I wait till she leaves and walk into the house. 

Timmy is getting a drink in the kitchen. I say hi and try to read his expression for any weirdness from the interaction with Liz. He seems unfazed. Maybe I am just being extra sensitive right now and can let this go. 

“Hey man, how did it go?” I ask Timmy.

“Great day, Armie,” he says in a jovial tone. “Harper had fun at the park. Ford was his normal wild self and got lots of exercise there. We played forever. I got them cleaned up and in fresh clothes before their mom came.”

“Oh, thanks for that. I appreciate it. Glad you are getting them worn out. It definitely helps bedtime go smoothly. What are you up to tonight?”

“Well, I figure I’ll just start out on a walk and see where the night takes me. Might check out one of those restaurants you suggested.” 

“Cool. Have a good time. I’ll just be lounging here tonight.”

He tucks a book under his arm leaves without much fanfare and I have the house to myself. I sink onto the couch, loosen my tie and take a breather. After a few moments I realize this is the first time I’ve had the house to myself since Liz left that I haven’t felt lonely. The silence feels comfortable and to my surprise I get hard. I think, why not? This used to be where I masturbated when Liz was asleep and I have a lot of fond memories here. I let my erection grow in my slacks and rub it over the layers of fabric. In attempt to use my imagination, I don’t reach for my phone to look up porn, but I get stuck. Giving in, I pull out the phone and decide to search m/m videos. I’m just curious, right? It’s not something I have explored in the past, but I am seeking new experiences. Scrolling through the categories I pick the twink link and find a video with a thin dark haired young guy. The scene is incredibly hot and I enjoy studying the young man’s body. The second man in the video is a little older, wearing a leather cap and harness. This is obviously a BDSM scene and I watch as the twink is bossed around and forced to his knees. Unzipping my pants, I take grasp and start slowly stroking my shaft. I watch as the twink blows the older man and struggles with the size of him. The older man is disappointed and throws him onto the bed and begins spanking him in punishment. Continuing to study my screen I get closer and closer to orgasm when I hear my front door crack open. I jump and drop my phone, terrified that someone will hear the noise of spanking and men groaning. Scurrying to get my dick back in my pants, I manage to zip them up as I see Timmy coming around the corner. The phone is still playing full blast and I dart off the couch and try to turn off the video. My hands are shaking so it takes several seconds before I can push stop. When I turn to see if Timmy is still there I hear the front door click and he’s gone again. I crumple back onto the couch with my heart racing. What a stupid thing for me to do. Masturbation will be limited to behind locked doors moving forward. 

My mind goes wild with the possibilities of what Timmy saw and how he’s going to respond to this display. Standing up I look from his vantage point and have a clear view of where I was on the couch. Shit. I feel like my behavior is incredibly inappropriate and don’t want to lose Timmy’s respect. I’m afraid that may have already occurred. Before my imagination gets the better of me I hear my text notification. It’s Timmy:

I’m so sorry. Didn’t see anything. Will be back at 9pm. Have a good night. 

Didn’t see anything? Of course be did. Why else would he have turned and ran? My face burns with embarrassment, but I’m glad he addressed it, rather than letting a huge cloud hang over my head indefinitely. The evening feels ruined, so I pull out some work to take my mind off the shame that is building. I look forward to the kids coming home for more distraction and slip into my bedroom just before 9pm. I can’t face him tonight and will put on a calm, cool demeanor tomorrow morning. 

As I wait to become tired, my curiosity gets the better of me and I turn the video back on. I fast forward a bit and turn the sound off. I don’t want anymore accidents to occur. The image of the older man penetrating the beautiful twink gets me going all over again. Slipping my cock from my sweatpants, I start working toward an orgasm again. Watching the pleasure mixed with pain on the twink’s face turns me on in a way I’ve never felt before. I start to put myself in the role of the older man and think what it would be like to fuck a man that sexy. Of course I’ve been curious about this from time to time, but never so much that I put myself into the equation. Any man who says he’s never wondered what it’s like to fuck a man is lying. Letting the fantasy wash over me feels so good. Thinking about coming in a man’s ass takes me there and I come harder than I have in a long while. Staring at the load in my hand, I’m bewildered by what I just experienced. Watching straight or lesbian porn in the past almost exclusively focuses on the women’s pleasure. Never before did I pay attention to what pleasure on a man’s face would look like, let alone how turned on it could make me to be the one inducing that pleasure. Maybe I’m bi or maybe this is just a fantasy and I don’t have to give it any more thought. The drowsiness of my orgasm gets me to sleep. Before my brain turns off I wonder what it will be like seeing Timmy tomorrow morning. All I can do is hope it’s not too awkward and I keep it together.


End file.
